


Ancient and Most Noble

by fee_kh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 17:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8498059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fee_kh/pseuds/fee_kh
Summary: The Second Great Wizard War ends and Hermione exchanges some money at Gringotts. Things go screwy from there.





	1. The end

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything new in about nine years. This is me attempting to get over that.  
> It is pure crack to an extent and I play fast and loose with very many things. Despite the fact that angst comes easily to me I want to keep this light-hearted and as fun as I can make it. At the moment I have a series of scenes which I will try to keep in order more or less.  
> It is based on something I started writing a good ten years ago and when I went through my notebooks looking to strike my imagination I started reading this and it made me laugh. I decided that was a good sign and there we go.  
> There may be sllight cross-overs and shout-outs but I don't think I will sign-post them.  
> I hope you enjoy this.  
> Not beta'd.

Chapter 1: The End

The Second Great Wizard War, note the capitals slotting neatly into place, ended on a rather anti-climatic note. Rather like when the wizarding wireless hypes the latest and greatest anthology of werewolf adventures and then you get a pamphlet of tired, rehashed anecdotes of Remus Lupin's life. Lovely man and werewolf but not the most exciting if you get the drift. You expect bodice-ripping in the moonlight and bulging, throbbing muscles and instead receive lukewarm tea and a good book. Not a bad thing, just not what you had been told to expect.

 

The Second Great Wizard War ended much the same way - a lot of expectation and build-up only to end with a quiet dissappointed feeling of _Wait - that's it? Um, yay? I guess?_

 

Voldemort had simply turned up one day in Hogsmead. Nobody knew why he had chosen that particular day and it was a little hard to ask him afterward once the dust had been cleared away. School was out for the summer and Harry Potter the _Boy Who Lived_ had - on Dumbledore's insistance - long since returned to the bosom of his loving family. Never mind that the bosom of said family was rather flat and definitely not loving.

In the end it didn't matter _why_ Voldemort was there it only mattered _that_ he was in fact there on the same day as a rather elderly visiting wizard called Silence Dogood. Master Dogood had returned to Hogsmeade for a family visit after spending several decades exploring the lost wizarding citadel of Lemuria, now no longer lost of course. Master Dogood was walking to the centre of town when Voldemort and his cronies attacked. In the ensuing scuffle - battle being too strong a word when most adult wizards never bothered to learn how to defend themselves properly, that is what Harry Potter the _Boy Who Lived_ was for - Master Dogood picked up a pleasantly round rock and let fly. Some fortuitous quirk of fate had it impacting right at the base of Voldemort's skull, killing off his higher motor functions immediately and the causing the spell he was just about to utter to implode back on the caster quite spectacularly. Naturally wizarding researchers were a tad reluctant to reproduce the exact situation in later years only to find out what it was that had gone wrong. That is how things go wrong after all and they were not _that_ stupid thank you very much.

As it turned out, the prophecy about Tom Riddle and his nemesis was in fact true- Silence Dogood was an old schoolchum (his words) of Thomas Riddle. When asked about their school time Silence simply stated: "Oh, yeah. Tommy always tried to match my History of Magic grades. Bless his heart, his memory was terrible, could never keep all the dates straight. He got so mad one day, he tried to stab me with his fork. Still have the marks on my neck today, look a lot like that arithmacy sign, don't it. Didn't mean to kill the old boy, just wanted to distract him a little."

Regarding the 'power he knows not', Silence blushingly admitted to joined a muggle baseball team while in Japan and 'being a jolly good pitcher'.

Dumbledore had been especially hard hit, mumbling unhappily about prophecies, all his hard work being for nothing and how it just wasn't _fair_.

And that was the end of that. Well, apart from the fact that most of the deatheaters really had been under the Imperius spell, not surprising considering Voldemort was a rather lackluster public speaker by all accounts. Reluctantly they were assigned to counsellers and sent back home. The now freed Deatheaters went back to whatever they had been doing before Voldemort got hold of them. Especially relieved had been Bellatrix and Rudolpus Lestrange who immediately retired back to their maor in Essex to rebuild their kneazle breeding program. It had rather suffered from neglect in the intervening decades.


	2. Chapter 2: What.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I have no claim to the intellectual property that is Harry Potter, that honour goes to J.K. Rowling. I am just fiddling around and tinkering a bit. And hopefully being amusing while I do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was originally the first chapter. It included what turned into the first chapter of the fic as it stands now here on AO3. I could claim of course that I took out that part because it would make sense to keep the two parts separated, but that would be bending the truth until it is close to snapping. Truthfully I started writing this because I hadn’t written anything for a whlile, I foun the paper notes I had made with the chapter layouts and some stuff pre-written and went from there. Then I went into my old Mac cause I wanted to burn some cd’s with the music on there and lo and behold there were the first four chapters of this fic. Which will not be edited and no doubt expanded.  
> There were already references in here for other things. I think the Methods of Rationality, which is amazing and fantastic and makes me scream with laughter. And a few other things. See if you can spot them. Also, just for fun, see if you can figure out where chapter one was supposed to go. I am not sure I ironed the excision point out properly.  
> Oh, also, sorry for the delay, it was Christmas and I felt like partying more than writing. And it is hard to get back into the habit. I have learned I need a level of boredom to get ideas and write. I used to get them on long car rides as I had to commute a lot for work. Now I teach second graders for one reason or another there is not a boring minute around. :)

Chapter 2: “WHAT.“

Diagon Alley was glistening in the late August sunshine, as Hermione stepped through the back wall of the Leaky Cauldron very much looking forward to her school shopping.

The alley wasn’t glistening due to sunlight shining off sparkling cobbled stones and shiny windows, rather it was glistening because the wizarding world had never really heard about pollution and therefore continued to use oil lamps for their lighting needs. Whoever had lit the lamps the night before and been careless. (And yes, there was a lamplighter’s guild, one of the few guilds which accepted squibs into their ranks, as you didn’t need magic to light a wick, although it helped when you fell off the ladder, but that was what squibs were for and you could always replace them. Rumour had it there was a Black in the lamplighter’s guild, but that was ridiculous, squibs in the Black family were unheard of for reasons. The reason is murder, in case you couldn’t guess.)

As an aside many years later Hermione learned where things went after you banished them. The Great Pacific garbage patch was growing so fast after all. Her reaction would be priceless and loud, but that is for another time.

Hermione enjoyed early school shopping because it gave her just the slightest thrill to know that she would be the first in her year to look through the new textbooks, highlight a few interesting passages and maybe jot down some notes on questions to ask the teacher. Okay, maybe jot down more than a few notes, more like a folder for each subject. She had a reputation to uphold after all.

Looking around at the throngs of people jostling about their business, Hermione felt quite content. **The End of The War** (all capitals please, as per Ministry Decree#168.a34.783LV.24/6.1) had been good for everybody. Well not much change for goblins, or house-elves, or muggleborns, prejudice being what it is, but for anybody who wasn't a goblin, a house-elf or a muggleborn **The End of The War** had been great. Unless you were a squib, or a woman, then not much changed. But for everybody else - well not the normal families, although not being threatened with extinction is always good - but for everybody _else_ **The End of The War** was fantastic.

Happily reminiscing on **The End of The War** and Harry’s finally gained and long-awaited freedom from _Fate, Destiny and the Greater Good_ (now there was a name for a band!) Hermione made her way to Gringotts, nodding at acquaintances, but not stopping.

This early in the holidays the bank wasn’t exactly teeming with life. A few witches and wizards were loitering in the Great Lobby, mostly watching the fracas going on in the corner opposite the exit. Three security goblins were dragging off a rather lanky, wet-looking spectacled wizard who was protesting at the top of his lungs that ‘it isn’t a crime to exploit the system.” and “It’s not my fault you guys don’t check the Silver exchange rate!” 

Hermione could only roll her eyes. Rules and laws were there for a _reason_ and she would never _dream_ of trying to buck the system. The irony of that thought was lost on her, but then she was still young.

The goblin at her particular till looked bored to tears and more than a little disgruntled with his lot in life; (he had been promised that he would be manning the family vault desk and not that any person could approach whenever they felt like it, never mind that it was a slow day and he might as well help the other tills a little; he’d been practicing his obsequious look for months now and anybody could tell you it was not easy to pull that off). Maybe it was this that would cause Hermione’s life to change. Or maybe it was simply a completely random freak accident; maybe it was fate. Whatever the reason, as Hermione walked up to the only free till, first from the right, manned by a peevish looking goblin, she had no idea how quickly and comprehensively her life would change and that in just under a year she would be – well that would be telling.

Suffice to say Hermione had a date with destiny and the hammer of fate would be slamming down hard on the anvil of her life.

************************___*************************

Already planning what she would be spending her extra 50 quid on (which Aunt Mariott had tucked into her pocket the week before), Hermione wasn’t really paying attention when she took the last few steps to the teller.

“I’d like to change this, please,” she said, handing over the money earned by babysitting and gardening, with some thrown in extra by her parents to make up the discrepancy and to give her some spending money, or pin money as her Dad jokingly called it.

The goblin grunted, dug up a positively ancient abacus and slammed the beads backwards and forwards with extreme prejudice, before writing the end sum on a scrap of parchment and shoving it towards Hermione’s face.

She however was already reaching for it, so the heavy parchment impacted her fingers at just the right angle to slice deeply into her index finger. Hermione yanked her hand back with a yelp, but fate being what it is, a perfect, fat droplet of her blood was flung up. Their eyes followed its path as it came to the apex of its rise and reversed direction to fall past the goblin’s and Hermione’s hands and the parchment and land smack in the centre of the little gold depression slightly off-centre in the table.

The goblin and Hermione held their breath beginning to relax when nothing further happened, the little droplet of blood sitting there perfectly innocently; until it started to sink into the gold and finally vanished. Another breathless moment of anticipation and then all hell broke loose. Goblins, both security and bank staff converged on them from all sides.

Hermione and her goblin exchanged a brief look of bewildered horror before they were carried off on a tide of goblinhood to parts unknown.

************************___*************************

Hermione had been left alone for what felt like hours but was in reality probably closer to twenty minutes, when finally an elderly goblin stepped in along with an entourage of about twenty.

Just as Hermione burst out with a, “I didn’t do anything!” the head goblin bowed and intoned, “My Lady Black, you honour our most humble institution with your presence.”

They stared at each other, then both said: “What”

Another staring match, before Hermione leaned back in her chair and gestured the goblin to continue.

The head goblin waited a moment, as if to ensure himself of her silence before beginning again: “My most gracious Lady Black, I wish to welcome you to this our most humble establishment and congratulate you on the acquisition of your title and hope you will continue your family’s patronage of Gringotts.”

Apparently happy with his obsequiousness, he leaned back in his chair as well and looked at the human across from him, wordlessly passing over the conversation to her.

Unfortunately Hermione wasn’t quite up to sensible conversation just yet.

“Huh?”

The head goblin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering something about what the hell they were teaching kids at school in this day and age. In his time everybody had to learn all customs of the wizarding world _thank you very much_ , which would have saved him from having to tell this naive childling about the ways of the world.

“You, my Lady Black, are the true heir of the Ancient and Most Noble house of Black.”

Well, Hermione knew how to answer that one.

“That is impossible, I am a muggle.” Hermione stated categorically.

The head goblin sighed once more. “There is no such thing as muggles, my Lady Black.”

“Could you stop calling me that, please! I’m NOT Lady Black. I’m just Hermione Granger, daughter of two dentists in Reading. I am the first witch in my family, so there.” She felt she should be forgiven for being a little petulant. It was not every day that somebody overthrew your entire world view and just expected you to roll with the punches.

“This has to be a mistake!”

“Goblin’s don’t make mistakes, Lady Black. Is not your father Simon Granger whose father was Archibald Granger whose father was Ignatius Granger whose father was Lord Aethelred Black XXVII?”

“Uh, no? My great great grandfather was some guy who had an affair with my great great grandmother and then left her when she was pregnant and went off to marry some other highborn girl and we never found out where he ever came from… oh” Hermione trailed off, by now thoroughly spooked.

“Well, then you are the new Lady Black, now that Sirius Ignatius Black has passed to the other side.”

Hermione stared at the head goblin in shocked disbelief. She had only wanted to change some pounds dammit.

The goblin stared back at her for a moment longer, before taking pity and providing a slightly longer explanation.

“There is no such thing as muggleborns, Lady Black, because in ancient times it was customary for the heirs and second-borns of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses to sow their wild oats as the saying goes. Any offspring thereof was adopted if it proved to have power and if not was left with the muggle ones that had spawned it. Sometimes down the line squib lines would reunite and there would be magical offspring. Every generation skipped seems to heighten magical power.”

This was something Hermione knew about. 

“Hmm, that sounds like it has the hallmarks of a recessive gene. Fascinating, you would need both genes to be viable as a magic caster, but if the wizards were sleeping with pure humans then there would be no chance for the magic to be passed on, it would just sit there until activated. No, that can’t be right, cause otherwise there would be no squibs born from magical families, so maybe it is two genes, one recessive and one dominant and you need both, which might also explain the different levels of ability in modern witches and wizards. Doesn’t explain the magic getting stronger in missed generations, though, that makes no sense whatsoever. There could be some serious research in this! I wonder if you can measure magical power with modern technology, or at least the part of the brain that is responsible for magical manipulation.” Her mouth stopped moving along with her thoughts, as the ramifications of the whole thing made her head spin.

“Quite.” The goblin intoned, thinking to himself that she was quite mad, after all jeans were those atrocious muggle items of clothing which the goblin youth were currently sporting, while insisting how groovy and psychedelic everything was. Had Hermione been able to read his thoughts, no doubt there would have been a pithy comment about how at least the goblin youth had managed to catch up with the 1960s, unlike some of the highborn who seemed to think Queen Victoria had never died.

“As I was saying, most gracious Lady Black, we must talk about your inheritance.”

“I still don’t get it.” Hermione stated and then waved a hand quickly when the goblin opened his mouth to speak. 

“No, no, I get the whole not muggle thing, but why does that make me the heir to the Black line, shouldn’t it be, I don’t know, Draco or somebody? They’re much closer than I am.”

“Ah, no.” The goblin stated, clicking his fingers. Another goblin stepped forward with an old piece of vellum that had what seemed to be a million signatures, seals and what looked like a scraggly cross on it.

“I hope they are teaching you the History of Magic at Hogwarts, so I can bypass the generalisations?” The goblin stated acerbically, only slightly mollified when Hermione nodded.

“As you know the goblin wars of 1134 ended with a virtual stalemate. A Pyrrhus victory for wizarding kind, but a victory none the less. One unfortunate side effect of the great battles of this war was the high death toll. Entire lines were exterminated, leading to the rather unfortunately nicknamed Edregard the Moronic to be the sole beneficiary of no less than five noble houses. Something had to be done, and in an unusual sign of accord a law was passed within days of the event, stating that – and I hope my lady will allow me to read to her, as this is written in Middle English and the curlesques might make understanding difficult.”

Hermione refrained from telling the irritating little goblin, that she had been reading Old English since she was nine and simply nodded for him to continue, desperate to get the whole thing behind her, before the shops, especially the book shop closed.

_“In the yvente thatte an anciente and moste noble house should be left with no heir of power and abilitie, who mayest notte be in ligne for anny other house or of dimme minde, then ye distaff lignes shall bee examined so thatte such an heir mayest yet bee founde. We shalle entrust this dutie to ye goblins…_ And the rest is in gobbledegook, my Lady.” The goblin ended, beginning to roll the scroll back up.

“If I may see?” Hermione asked, already reaching for the ancient text.

“Hmm, let’s see, ancient lines, dimme mind, mm-mh, shall entrust this duty to the goblin – and you must allow me to paraphrase here, my lord goblin, so as to ensure the understanding of our more modern minds – _because we are royally fucked if we don’t grant them even the slightest privilege, because despite everything they still control the gold. And the golden rule is that he who has the gold makes the rules._ Did I paraphrase that correctly?” Hermione asked, more than a little sarcastically.

The head goblin swallowed his ire, and to be perfectly honest his admiration for the woman across from him. She would have made a fine goblin.

“You speak gobbledegook very well, my Lady,” was all he was willing to state out loud though.

“I had some free time in my third year.” Hermione retorted, blushing slightly.

**Author's Note:**

> I am the only one who proofread this, so... while I love constructive criticism, can I maybe have a shit sandwich?
> 
> Something nice  
> Everything you hate  
> Something nice
> 
> :)


End file.
